


I'll Always Protect You

by WillowSong



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Action, Angst, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Peter is a badass, Romance, Spideypool - Freeform, Suspense, Tumblr Prompt, Violence, and a little ball of sunshine, and not thinking plans through, sort of, wade falling off things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-02-20 19:07:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2439581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillowSong/pseuds/WillowSong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I saw this anonymous prompt on tumblr and had to try writing it. Props to the anon who came up with this idea, because it's really awesome!!</p><p>Anonymous said: If anyone is up for it I have a rescue prompt idea where Peter (he is not in his spiderman suit) is taken as a hostage with a gun to the head along with a few other civilians. Peter is warning the criminals to let everyone go otherwise his fiance,Wade, will kill them all. They mock him and beat him up. Then a furious Deadpool saves Peter by the most badass way possible. Also I would love if someone write how unnervingly skilled Wade is as a mercenary. Please? Anyone?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the itsy bitsy spider

**Author's Note:**

> Now translated into Chinese by the beautiful Lwnixndk: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6722134/chapters/15367462

Peter had thought that the most dangerous part of his life was putting on his skintight red suit and swinging around the city with webs. He hadn't thought that his cover identity, a photographer for the Daily Bugle, would ever be more dangerous. Apparently he was wrong.

The day had started off normally enough. Jonah yelled at him as soon as he entered the office and then sent Peter out to get him coffee. When Peter returned the receptionist started flirting with him, making him blush. After working for several hour and getting yelled at by Jonah several more times he got several texts from Wade that made him blush even more than the receptionist had.

Wade had been gone for the last several nights on a mission. He wouldn't tell Peter the particulars, which made Peter very suspicious as to its legality. He was due home that evening though and had decided to text Peter a list of things that they would do to celebrate. It was not appropriate reading material for work.

Late in the afternoon, Jonah shouted at Peter from his office. "Parker! I need you to go take some pictures of that visiting congressman! We got the interview with him today but the reporter was too stupid to remember to remind me to send a photographer with her. Get some good ones and be back here with them fully developed in an hour."

Peter didn't even bother explaining to Jonah that it was physically impossible to do all that in an hour. Instead, he silently collected his camera and went down to the bus stop.

He hadn't brought his Spiderman suit that day. Sometimes he left it at home when he felt like pretending to be a normal person. It probably wasn't the smartest thing to do, but sometimes he missed feeling like everyone else. So he had left it folded up in the bottom of his dresser drawer in his and Wade’s apartment.

He regretted it two minutes after the bus pulled away from the curve.

The bus wasn't very full. Near Peter sat a young mother who was playing with her small daughter. A grumpy looking businessman kept glaring at the giggling child over the top of his newspaper. There were two men sitting close to each other in the front and four more in the back, but Peter didn't notice anything odd until it was too late.

As the bus pulled away from its stop, one of the men in the front stood up, reaching into his coat pocket and pulled out a gun, which he then aiming it at the driver's head. At the same time, the four men in the back and the other man who had been in the front pulled out guns, one of them moving around to stand by the emergency exit while the others each went to stand near Peter and the other passengers.

"You don't mind if we take a little detour, do you?" the man holding a gun to the driver’s head asked with a grin. He rattled off an address to the driver, whose grip on the steering wheel had turned white knuckled. The kidnapper was wearing a tan trench coat and a black baseball cap. The hair that stuck out from all angles underneath the cap was such a bright color of orange that it looked like a poorly made wig.

Orange-hair turned around to face Peter and the other three passengers. "Now, the rest of you be good little hostages and put your hands above your heads."

The mother obeyed right away, whispering urgently for her daughter to do the same. The little girl giggled, thinking that it was another game and copied her mother. The businessman huffed.

"Listen here, you punk," he snapped. "I don’t have time for this. I need to be in a meeting in ten minutes and I'll be damned if idiots playing villain, trying to get fifteen minutes of fame, are going to stop me."

He made to stand up, but the man standing next to him shoved the gun into the side of his head and cocked it. The businessman went pale and slid down into his seat.

"We're not playing," Orange-hair said softly. "Some people in here are worth a lot of money and intend to make the most of it. Now, hands up."

The businessman raised his hands, trembling, into the air. Peter felt the cold of a gun pressed into his neck.

"You too, nerd," the man behind him said.

Peter raised his hands slowly above his head, his mind racing. He didn't have his suit or webs with him. He could probably toss all six of them out on their asses with his strength alone, but not when they were holding guns to other people's heads. Peter clenched his jaw. Apparently he had gotten just what he wanted today: to be a normal, helpless person. It sucked.

"I don't want any funny business here today,” Orange-hair said. “Nobody play hero. Nobody try to escape. We'll shoot all of you dead if you try anything, so just do what we say and you've got nothing to worry about. As soon as we get our money you can all be on your merry way."

"Who the hell on this bus is worth a ransom?" the businessman asked in a voice that was clearly intended to sound gruff and unafraid, but came out as more of a squeak.

"People aren't always what they appear to be," Orange-hair replied cryptically. "Now shut your hole. I don't want to hear anything more out of any of you. Got it?"

It didn't take them very long to reach their destination, which was an abandoned lot with a dilapidated shed sitting in the middle. The shed’s white pain was peeling off and the roof sagged alarmingly in the middle. And empty paper bag blew across the lot, tangling in the branches of the single, dead tree that stood next to the shed.

Peter couldn't help it, the words just slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them. "Really, guys? An abandoned shed? Could you possibly get anymore cliché?"

Orange-hair turned slowly and walked toward Peter, only stopping when he was standing directly over him. The man leaned in, sticking his face close to Peter's. "If I wanted your opinion, I would ask for it, punk."

"Clearly you should be asking someone's opinion. Or maybe you should have just read your copy of How To Be A Failed Villain For Dummy's."

Damn. He really should just shut up. The mother, businessman, and bus driver were all staring at him in a silent plea for him to be quiet. Clearly living with Wade was making his natural smartass nature even worse.

Orange-hair let out a surprised chuckle that sounded more sinister than all his threats combined. The rancid smell of his breath washed over Peter and he had to stop himself from gagging. "Keep that mouth of yours shut, boy, or there's going to be trouble." He straightened up and turned back to his men. "Alright, let's get them out of here and inside."

With their hands still above their heads, the five hostages were marched into the shed. By this time the little girl had tired of the game and was starting to stifle and tug at her mother's skirt. As soon as they entered the shed, the kidnappers tied the adults hands behind their backs.

Orange-hair moved over to the mother, getting as close to her face like he had with Peter. "Keep your brat quiet, or there's going to be trouble." She nodded quickly as he turned back to his men. "Four of you put them over by the wall. One of you come out with me while I make the call."

"What call?" the bus driver whispered to Peter as the rest of the kidnappers herded them over to sit with their backs against the back wall.

"Ransom," Peter whispered back. "They want someone to pay for our release."

"Hey, shut it, you little shit," one of the kidnappers said, kicking Peter's leg for emphasis.

The shed was quiet for a few minutes and Peter took the opportunity to look around. It was tiny, but filled with junk. Old, broken furniture was strewn around the floor and in one corner was an array of old farm equipment. The concrete floor was filthy, covered in a thick layer of dirt and dust. The only light in the shed were a few dim beams shining through cracks in the wall.

The door opened and the two kidnappers returned, Orange-hair still speaking into a cell phone. "If you don't deliver in two hour, I'll start shooting," he was saying. "And I have very good aim. Those are my terms." He was silent for a moment as he listened to the other end of the line. "No, you can't speak to any of the hostages," he said. "You're just going to have to take my word for it. I'll see you very soon." He ended the call.

"Money will be here soon," he grinned at his men.

"He won't pay you." Peter turned in surprise at the young mother's outburst. "He doesn't care what happens to us."

The leader grinned. "So you figured you it was you we were after? Good job, sweetheart. But luckily for me, even estranged daughters are still loved by their daddies. The money's on its way."

She shook her head. "You're going to destroy him. If the scandal isn't bad enough, paying the ransom money will ruin him."

"Looks like he cares more about you than his career after all, huh?"

"What are you two blabbering about?" the businessman finally burst out, earning him a kick from the closest kidnapper.

"How rude of me," Orange-hair grinned as one of his men brought him a rickety chair to sit on from the other side of the shed. "Our other guests don't know who you are. Allow me to introduce to you the only daughter of our distinguished visiting congressman, estranged three years ago when she got knocked up and refused to give up the kid. They hushed it up pretty well to avoid scandal, but there are ways of digging up dirt on everyone."

The woman looked down at her lap to hide her face. Her daughter was curled close to her. The mother’s shoulders were shaking and for a moment Peter thought she was crying, but then he caught a glimpse of her face. Through her hair he saw the look of fury on her face. Peter knew that anything she did or said would be taken out on her daughter, so when she proudly lifted her head, mouth open to speak, Peter blurted out the first thing that came into his mind.

"If you want to survive tonight, I strongly recommend that you let us go."

Everyone turned to look at him. Orange-hair stood up slowly and walked over to stand above Peter, just like he had done on the bus.

"And why is that? You think the cops can do anything about this while we've got you fuckers as hostages?"

Peter shook his head pityingly. "The cops are the worst of your problems right now. You gave bigger things to worry about."

"And what might that be?" Orange-hair asked through gritted teeth.

Peter grinned up at him. "My fiancé."

There was another stunned silence. Then the kidnappers burst out laughing. "You think I'm worried about your girlfriend?" Orange-hair laughed.

Peter raised an eyebrow. "You should be. And he's actually my boyfriend."

Orange-hair laughed even harder. "If the cops can't do anything to us, do you think some random guy can?"

"He can if he's Deadpool."

The room was so quiet that Peter could hear a siren screaming blocks away. Orange-hair’s smile slid off his face.

"Seriously," Peter continued. "I'm not joking here. If you don't let us go, he's going to kill you."

"You better shut that mouth of yours before I shut it for you, kid," Orange-hair snapped. “That’s not something to joke about.”

"It's true," Peter persisted. "Let us all go now and I can promise you there won't be any trouble.” Orange-hair was getting angry, but Peter persisted. If he couldn’t protect the other hostages as Spiderman, then he could do his best to protect them as Peter Parker by keeping the kidnapper’s attention fixed on him. Although, if he was being honest, Peter was also a little bit concerned about what Wade was going to do to the kidnappers when he heard about this.

"Dating Deadpool," Orange-hair shook his head. "Is that the best you can come up with? How stupid do you think I am, kid?"

"You just kidnapped the fiancé of the most dangerous mercenary in the world, so do you really want me to answer that?" Peter replied.

The leader bent down, looking at Peter at eye level. "I'm giving you one last warning," he said softly. "I'm not a patient guy and you're really starting to piss me off."

Peter didn't blink as the man stared him down. "I'm just trying to stop a lot of people from getting hurt, including you," he replied. "If you don't let us go and he comes after you for this, I might not be able to stop him. He’ll kill you."

Orange-hair lashed out, shoving Peter against the wall and slamming his fist into Peter's face. Peter heard his glasses crack and felt a sharp pain as the glass broken glass bit into his skin.

"I warned you," Orange-hair whispered to him before standing up and turning to his men. "Pick the kid up and let's have a little fun. Let's see just how pissed 'Deadpool' is going to be when he hears about this."

The kidnappers laughed roughly as one of them, a huge man who was looked like he could have been a professional wrestler, yanked Peter to his feet. Peter looked down quickly at the young mother. "Don't let her watch," he said. She nodded in understanding and whispered something to her little girl who was curled up next to her. The girl wrapped her arms around her mother's neck and buried her face in her shoulder.

The kidnapper dragged Peter into the middle of the room and tossed him onto his side on the ground. Orange-hair yanked his camera off the cord around his Peter's neck and dropped it, smashing it into the ground with his heel. Then he struck out fast, kicking Peter sharply in his stomach.

"I don't like people trying to make a fool of me," he said, kicking Peter again, harder this time. Peter gasped for breath.

"Where's your boyfriend?" Orange-hair taunted. "He better come and stop me before I get carried away." Another kick. Peter bit back a cry as he felt a rib crack. It was days like this when he wished his healing factor worked as fast as Wade's.

Orange-hair kicked him several more times, each kick harder than the next. Peter tried to curl up to protect himself, but it did little good against the blows that were raining down on him.

"Pick him up," Orange-hair finally said to him men.

The wrestler-man yanked him roughly to his feet and this time Peter couldn't quite keep his cry of pain silent. The kidnappers laughed.

"You gonna send your fiancé after me now?" Orange-hair asked, enjoying the laughs and shouts of encouragement he was getting from his men. He had the center stage and he was enjoying every second of it. "Got anything more to say?" he continued. "How about some begging? Ask me to stop hitting you," he instructed, hitting Peter hard across the face. The remnants of Peter’s glasses flew off and landed on the ground. One of the kidnappers stepped on them, completely crushing them.

Peter shook his head. "Don't say.... I didn't warn you," he panted. "You've really done it now. Deadpool really loved those glasses."

Orange-hair struck Peter’s face again before kneeing him in his already throbbing abdomen. Peter doubled over in pain, the only thing keeping him from sinking to the floor were the rough hands of the wrestler who was still restraining him.

Orange-hair yanked him back up and began to showering down blow after blow. "Your boyfriend better show up soon," he mocked. "Or all he's just going to be able to find of you is a bloody smear on the floor." Peter was soon he was sagging in the wrestler-man's arms, unable to hold himself up.

Orange-hair laughed. "Had enough yet?" he asked. "All you have to do is ask me to quit. Go on, start begging."

Peter struggled painfully to get his feet back under him, glaring at the kidnapper. "Piss off," he said and spat out a mouthful of blood at him.

Orange-hair’s face twisted in fury as he wiped the blood off of his face and shirt. "Oh, you're going to get it now, fag," he said, drawing back his arm when a loud laugh echoed through the shed.

"Nice aim, baby boy! Couldn't have done it better myself!"

Orange-hair whirled around, looking for the speaker. There was no on in sight besides his men and the other hostages. "Which one of you said that?" he asked the hostages harshly, taking a step towards them.

"None of them, dumbass,” this disembodied voice said scathingly. “Do they look like they would sound this sexy?”

The kidnappers began looking around themselves wildly, pointing their guns into the darker shadows of the shed. The man holding Peter tightened his grip on Peter's arms so much that it left bruises.

The disembodied voice began to whistle The Itsy Bitsy Spider.

"Show yourself, you fucking coward! Or I'll hit him until he can't move anymore," Orange-hair screamed, slapped Peter hard across the face again.

The voice broke off his whistling with a snarl. "You really shouldn't have done that."

Orange-hair drew out his gun and placed the barrel against Peter's head. "Come out or he'll get worse."

Peter groaned. "Here we go," he muttered.

"Well?" Orange-hair shrieked into the silence.

"Look behiiiiiiiind you," the voice, much closer now said in a singsong voice. Orange-hair whirled and found himself standing an inch away from a red and black masked face.

Deadpool.

"What's up, motherfuckers?" The mercenary chirped before knocking his head hard into the leader's. The man crumpled.

Deadpool looked around the room, his eyes stopping on Peter. "Baby, when I told you not to have fun while I was gone, I didn't mean you had to get the shit beaten out of you. I just meant that I didn't want you to watch any Orange is the New Black without me."

Peter smiled, a bloody crack on his lip splitting even more. "Be more specific next time."

"Ain't gonna be a next time. I’m not letting you out of my sight after this."

"Shut it!" the wrestler-man holding Peter yelled, holding his gun at Peter's head. "Back off or I shoot."

Deadpool froze, his eyes fixed on Peter's captor.

"Wade," Peter murmured. "Please don't kill them."

Deadpool didn't move an inch.

"Drop all your weapons," the man shouted. "Do it now!"

"Wade, please," Peter whispered. "Don't kill-" his words were cut off by Orange-hair, who was still laying on the ground, kicking out hard at Peter's knee. There was a sickening crunch and Peter slumped in the wrestler-man’s arms with a cry of pain.

That's when hell broke loose.

Deadpool was moving before the sound had finished escaping Peter's mouth. One of his katanas was in his hand, slicing at the ankle of Orange-hair. The man started screaming, his foot now only attached to his leg by a tendon while the rest hanging off in a bloody mess.

Deadpool didn't even stop to look.

A bullet pierced the hand of the man holding Peter. He dropped Peter with a cry, stumbling back to nurse his hand.

Deadpool caught Peter before he hit the ground, dropping his katana. Peter blinked up at him through two swollen, black eyes. "Don't kill," he whispered.

Deadpool placed a soft kiss on Peter's forehead. "I missed you," was his only reply as he lowered his fiancé gently to the ground. He picked up his katana, sliced the cords that bound Peter's hands and stood up. He moved to stand between Peter and the kidnappers, who were standing back, watching the mercenary uncertainly.

"I hope you jackasses don't mind if we make this quick," Wade said. "I've got places to be and a sexy fiancé to take care of."

"What are you waiting for?!" Orange-hair screamed, still clutching at his nearly-severed foot. "Kill that fucker!"

The four remaining kidnappers exchanged a look before they leapt forward at once.

Three of them began shooting as one dove at Deadpool with a knife. Deadpool neatly sidestepped the blade, grabbed the man's hand and used it as a vault to spring into the air, sending down a volley of well-aimed bullets. Two of the kidnappers hit the ground, writhing in pain from the several nonfatal wounds Deadpool had given each of them.

The businessman and bus driver were screaming and the young mother was trying to shield her daughter with her own body.

Deadpool hit the ground in a crouch, turning with a swift movement and slicing at the back of the knee of man who had been holding the knife. He hit the ground hard. The wounds the kidnapper’s bullets had given Deadpool were already beginning to heal.

But then a shouted warning from Peter had Deadpool turning on his heel to find the that last kidnapper left standing was holding his gun an inch from Deadpool's head.

Deadpool grinned and stuck his finger into the barrel of the gun. The man stared in shock.

"Nice try, chump,” Deadpool said. “But I’m pretty much invincible."

He lifted his gun and, with a loud bang, shot the man's ear off. As the man fell, clutching the side of his head and screaming, Deadpool felt a pair of strong arms encircling him, squeezing tightly.

The wrestler-man who had been holding Peter had snuck up behind Deadpool and, despite the bullet wound in his hand, was attempting to choke him.

"Is it cuddle time?" Deadpool wheezed. "I like cuddle time."

There was another loud bang from Deadpool’s gun as he managed to reach back and shoot the man's shoulder. He turned as the kidnapper hit to the ground.

"Next time a first-class, badass mercenary shoots you in the hand, you might want to consider staying down. Just a thought," Deadpool said before turning back to crouch beside Peter, putting the gun back in its holster, but leaving the katana gripped loosely in his hand.

"We've got to get you home, baby-" he stopped midsentence and turned around just as a gun went off. Orange-hair was propped up on his shoulder, pointing his gun as Deadpool.

It was as if time slowed down.

Peter's shout, the bullet whizzing toward Deadpool's eye, the katana that sliced up, neatly cutting the bullet in half so the two sides fell away harmlessly.

Silence filled the room as Deadpool stood up slowly and moved across the room the crouch in front of Orange-hair. "Thanks for reminding me that you're still here," he said, grabbing the man's shirt and hauling him forward. "In all the excitement I almost forgot to pay you back for looking after my sweetums for me while I was gone."

"No, please-" Orange-hair’s plea was cut off by Deadpool's fist smashing into the side of his face.

"If-you-ever-touch-my-baby-again," Deadpool growled, each word punctuated by a punch. "I-will-fucking-kill-you-and-then-bring-you-back-to-life-so-I-can-fucking-kill-you-again."

By the time he was done, the man was an unconscious, bleeding mess. Deadpool turned back to Peter who shook his head. "Untie the other hostages."

Deadpool frowned. "What do I give a fuck about them for? The cops are almost here anyway, they can take care of it."

"Wade, please."

Deadpool sighed and turned back to the hostages. The mother didn't blink as he raised his katana and sliced through her bindings. Her arms went immediately around her daughter, holding her tightly. “Thank you,” she murmured.

The bus driver stared at Deadpool in a trance as his bindings were cut, but the businessman scooted backward. "Stay away! Your kind just make things worse! All you heroes and villains, you just made the world a more complicated, dangerous place! You destroy everything!"

"He saved us," the young mother snapped.

"He's a killer!"

Deadpool leaned close to the man's face.

"Yes, I am," he said. "But right now I'm going to cut you free because Petey asked me to. So shut up the fuck up and hold still because I have better things to do than listen to your outdated theories about hero politics." With that, he sliced down, cutting the businessman's bindings.

"While I'm at it," Deadpool said, addressing all of the hostages as he stepped back. "None of you saw Petey here, is that clear? If I hear that any of you said anything about him to anybody, you're going to get a personal visit from me that I don't think you'll enjoy very much."

He turned to back to Peter when the bus driver finally broke out of his trance and said nervously, "I heard you know Spiderman…. Could you get me his autograph?"

A smile stretched over Deadpool’s face under his mask. "I'll see what I can do."

********

"They broke my camera. And my glasses," Peter said indignantly as Wade carried him gingerly back to their apartment.

"Never mind the fact that they also broke several of your ribs and your leg," Wade huffed.

"Yeah, but I don't have to buy replacements for those, as far as I know."

Wade had suggested taking Peter to a hospital, but Peter insisted on going home. They had compromised by agreeing that Wade would call a doctor pay a house visit. As much as Wade wanted Peter better, he was secretly relieved that neither of them would have to stay the night in a hospital. He didn’t trust them, especially not with Petey.

Peter groaned suddenly.

Wade stopped walking. "What is it?" he asked in alarm. "Where does it hurt?"

"Jonah's going to kill me," Peter moaned. "Not only did I not get those pictures he wanted, but then I went and get my camera smashed up."

Wade started walking again. "He can't kill you if he's dead first," he said thoughtfully.

"Wade, you are not going to kill my boss," Peter reprimanded.

"It was just a suggestion," Wade grinned.

Peter was silent for a moment. "Thank you," he finally said, softly.

Wade looked down at him in surprise. "For what? Not killing your boss? I was only joking, anyway. Well, sort of joking. If you really wanted me to, I would kill him, but I didn't think you'd want me to."

"No, I meant thank you for saving me and the other hostages. And for not killing those men."

"I wanted to," Wade mumbled, not meeting Peter’s gaze. "I would have too, if you hadn't of asked me not to. And anyway, I'll always save you, no matter what it takes."

"You really are a hopeless romantic, aren't you?"

"Only for my baby boy."

Peter stifled a yawn. He was exhausted. The pain from his wounds was still there, throbbing at every careful, gentle step that Wade took, but he felt safe and warm in Wade’s arms.

"Hold on just a little longer, Petey," Wade said, seeing Peter's yawn. "We're almost home."

Peter smiled and tucked his head into the crook of Wade's shoulder. "Home is a good place to be."


	2. seeing a man about a spider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I originally only meant for this to be a oneshot, but then a lovely anon suggested that I write a continuation where Wade meets Jonah. I kind of fell in love with the idea, so this happened. Thank you, anon!! I hope you enjoy!! ^^

Wade watched Peter from across the table as he slumped in his chair, ignoring the mountain of tacos that lay on the tabletop between them. The bruises on Peter's face were all but gone and his bones were almost completely healed as well, but the exhausted dark circles under his eyes were still prevalent as they had been three days ago when Wade had found him kidnapped and beaten to a pulp.

Not for the first time since the kidnapping Wade considered paying a visit with a lot of guns to the jail where the kidnappers were being held, but he knew Peter would be unhappy with him if he did.

Wade scooted his chair around the table noisily so he was seated right next to Peter and picked up one of the tacos. "Come on, baby, you need to eat just a little," he wheedled. "Open wide! In goes the plane into the airplane hanger!" He made a zooming motion with the taco, complete with airplane sound effects, by Peter's mouth remained stubbornly shut.

"Come on, Petey, just a little," Wade pleaded.

Peter shook his head. "I just want to go to bed. I'm so tired. Jonah spent literally the entire day yelling at me. Sometimes I think that's the only reason he hired me."

Wade frowned. No one at Peter's work knew that he nor Wade had been involved in the kidnapping. Wade had taken care to see to that. However, the best excuse that Peter could come up with to tell his boss as to why he had not only gotten his camera broken his camera, but also not gotten any pictures of the visiting congressman like he had been instructed was that he had gotten mugged. Jonah hadn't taken the news very well and was now on a one-man campaign to make Peter's life a living hell.

Wade had tried to convince Peter to take the week off, not only from the Daily Bugle, but from being Spiderman as well, but the stubborn man wouldn't listen. Wade had spent the last three days shadowing him, which had resulted in several whispered arguments in the bathroom of the Daily Bugle, as well as several louder and more public arguments as Deadpool and Spiderman in the middle of the city.

"How about you just eat one yummy taco and then you can go sleep for as long as you want?" Wade tried to compromise. It was Saturday tomorrow, so Wade fully intended to make sure that Peter slept in as late as he wanted.

Peter sighed and took the taco from Wade's hand. "Fine."

When Peter had finished eating and crawled into bed, Wade leaned over and kissed him softly. "I'll be back to you in a little bit, baby boy. I've going to go take care of something first."

Peter mumbled an incoherent reply, his breathing already deepening as he drifted to sleep.

Wade crept quietly to the closet and pulled out his Deadpool costume. Soundlessly, he changed and snuck out of the room, resisting the urge to hum the Mission Impossible theme as he pulled his mask on over his head.

As he left their apartment, Wade turned toward the hoity-toity side of town. He normally didn’t like spending much time there, but luckily, after Peter had kicked him out of the Daily Bugle of the seventh time that day he had done some scouting around. Now he knew exactly where he was going.

The apartment building he arrived at was huge and ritzy, nowhere that Wade would ever be ever caught dead living in. Ritzy places made him nervous.

He walked in through the front door, a swift elbow to the nose silencing the guard at the door.

The elevator played soft music as it rose. On the seventeenth floor, Wade stepped off the elevator. There were only two apartments on the floor and, since Wade had done his research, he knew exactly which one he was looking for. He faced the door and kicked it in, pleased that it made a satisfying crunching noise as it splintered around the hinges.

The entryway of the apartment led straight into the living room. There was no one insight, however a spiral staircase led to an upstairs level and from there the sounds of running bath water floated down.

The living room was decorated with huge furniture and a sickening assortment of Persian rugs. A lion's head was mounted on the wall, along with various framed issues of the Daily Bugle. A fancy bar was over in the corner. Wade took the opportunity to help himself to a beer and them made himself comfortable on the huge leather couch that sat in between a wall of windows overlooking the city and a huge fireplace that was already lit and crackling merrily.

It wasn't long before the water turned off and the muffled sound of footsteps filtered through the floor above him. Wade slouched down into the sofa, throwing one arm over the back and propping his legs up on the coffee table.

There were soft footsteps padding down the stairs and then Jonah Jameson emerged, dressed only in a fluffy white bathrobe and dark blue slippers. Wade resisted the urge to wrap up the jackass's neck with the tie of his robe.

Despite having Deadpool lounging on his couch with a beer in his hand in front of him, Jonah didn't notice and went straight to the bar. With his back to Wade, he began to mix himself a drink.

Wade shook his head in amazement. "And here I thought newspaper people were supposed to be perceptive. Guess that only goes for the ones that don't have their heads crammed up their asses." There was the sound of glass shattering as the bottle Jonah was holding smashed as it hit the floor. He whirled and stared open mouthed at Wade.

"Who the hell are you? How did you get in here?" he sputtered.

"I'm Deadpool. Duh. Doesn't the red mask and rapier wit give it away? And I got in through your front door." He pointed to the splintered mess behind Jonah. "You might want to get someone in to fix that before you have a break-in."

The muscle in Jonah's jaw twitched. "What do you want?" he snapped.

"Relax, Joe," Wade drawled, settling back into the sofa cushions. "I'm just here for a chat."

"I don't believe you. I know your reputation and what you do for living. There’s enough security and cameras in this place to make it impossible for even you to get away with anything here."

"Was your security the guy I knocked out on my way up here? Year, he wasn't too scary. And the cameras were pretty easy to highjack too. Right now I think they're set to play a rerun of Blue's Clues. Should be a nice change for the night security people. Did you ever watch that show? Did you know that Blue is a girl? My mind was completely blown when I found out."

Jonah stared at him open mouthed. "My god, you really don't shut up."

"Nope," Wade said, setting his empty beer can down on the table. "But enough with the formalities." He vaulted over the back of the sofa and stalked toward Jonah, his right hand resting on the gun at his hip.

"I've had my eye on you for awhile, Joe, and I don't like you at all."

Jonah swallowed nervously. "Why would you have an eye on me? What did I do?"

"Let's just say I have a personal interest in your relations with your staff. A staff, by the way, who have more talent than a bed wetting shit like you could ever dream of having."

"Personal interest?" Jonah asked, edging away from Wade as he stalked toward him.

"That's right."

Jonah's back hit the counter of the bar, making it impossible for him to move back any further. He straightened up, attempting to look intimidating. "Did my staff hire you to come here like this?" he snapped.

"As if," Wade snorted. "Do you really think they could afford me? Nope, this an anonymous favor for my baby boy, who is not to hear about any of this. In fact, no one is to hear about this. Like, ever."

"Baby boy?" Jonah repeated incredulously. "Are you dating someone from my office?"

"Yep," Wade replied, letting the 'p' pop, making Jonah jumped slightly. "My demands are simple," Wade continued, as he pulled out one of the guns at his hip, twirling it idly in his fingers. "Stop being a jackass. Give your staff the recognition they deserve. Especially the sexy photographers with nerd glasses and nice asses. Hey, that rhymed!"

Jonah's eyebrows shot up. "Nerd glasses? Do you mean P-." His words were cut off as Wade placed the barrel of his gun against Jonah's chin. Jonah stared down at it, wide eyed and breathing heavily, almost cross-eyed from trying to keep the gun in his line of sight. "Th-threatening me like this is illegal! And so is breaking and entering."

Wade chuckled dryly. "Do I look like I give a fuck? Let me rephrase my demands and I'll use small words so you'll understand: back off of Peter Parker."

"Parker is dating Deadpool?"

"Try to keep up," Wade said scathingly. "I don't like the way you treat him. I don't like how stressed he gets because of how much you yell at him. I don't like how you don't give him the recognition he deserves. But most of all, I don't like your mustache. Seriously, that is the douchiest mustache I've ever seen."

Jonah stared at him. "God, you really are as crazy as they say."

"Yes, I am." Wade stepped even closer, his nose almost pressed against Jonah's. "And just so we're clear, there is absolutely nothing that I wouldn't do to protect Peter. So if I get even the slightest suspicion that you're still mistreating him after our chat tonight, I'll be back here with a much bigger gun and maybe even a couple grenades. Got it?"

Jonah nodded silently, his eyes wide.

Wade stepped back. "Good." He walked over to the huge window before turning back around to face Jonah. "Also if you're going to piss yourself, which I'm pretty sure you're about to do, you might want to get off that rug. Later."

With that, he jumped out of the window.

Jonah ran to the gaping hole in his wall, ignoring the broken glass from the window, and looked down to see the red clad figure of Deadpool picking himself off the ground. He looked up and, when he saw Jonah watching him, he raised his middle finger in salute before dashing away.

******

Wade closed the apartment door softly so as not to wake Peter. He sripped out of his costume and took a quick shower to rinse off the blood from his fall. Peter wouldn't be happy to see the blood on his suit in the morning, but it wasn't anything he wasn't used to by now.

Wade crawled into bed and wrapped his arms around Peter's waist, hugging him tightly.

"Where have you been?" Peter mumbled sleepily.

"Nowhere, baby," Wade whispered back, placing a soft kiss of Peter's forehead. "I just had to go see a man about a spider."

******

Wade was sitting on the sofa cleaning some of his guns when Peter got home from work on Monday. He was quiet as he hung his coat by the door and came to sit beside Wade, giving him a slightly distracted kiss.

“How was work?” Wade asked, setting his gun on the table and throwing an arm around Peter’s shoulder.

Peter shook his head. “Hands down, weirdest day of my life.”

Wade raised an eyebrow. “Now that’s really saying something. What happened?”

“Well, to start off, Jonah didn’t make me go get his coffee today- he brought me some! Can you believe that? He didn’t yell at me once and whenever he asked me to do something he would say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ about ten times. He wouldn’t even look me in the eye, but whenever he did see me looking at him, he flinched. And to top it all off he kept coming out of his office and asking me if I needed anything. He even ordered me a pizza for lunch!”

“Did you bring me any leftovers?” Wade grinned.

Peter elbowed him playfully. “Not a chance. There’s no way I’m sharing my free pizza. Seriously though, what do you think got in to him?”

Wade shrugged. “Who knows? He’s a weirdo. Or maybe he just finally figured out how fucking awesome you are.”

Peter laughed. “Yeah, I’d say he’s just a weirdo. But you know, as creepy as all the attention today was, it was way better than getting yelled at. I wonder if he’ll go back to being cranky, asshole Jonah tomorrow.”

Wade hid a smile as he hugged Peter tightly. “I doubt it, Petey. I seriously doubt it.”


	3. I am a head case (I am the color of boom)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade really needed to start thinking his plans through. Especially the plans had to do with exploding bridges, going into battle against moving boxes, and proposing to his boyfriend.  
> But who was he kidding?  
> Wade Wilson never plans.  
> Which is probably why everything blows up.
> 
>    
> Set five months before the previous chapters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hello, Spideypool fandom! Long time, no see! :D
> 
> Sooooooo my hand slipped and I kind of accidentally wrote a third part to this verse. That's basically how I've written this entire verse though, so I guess that's really nothing new haha.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this next crazy little adventure! <3

_Five months before the previous chapters...._

\--

Let it be known that Wade honest to god had _not_ planned on blowing up the bridge and had _definitely_ not planned on proposing to his adorable, spandex-clad, booty-licious boyfriend right before blowing up said bridge. But, like most of the things in Wade's life, shit just sort of happened and then everything went boom.

The day started normally enough. He was in the process of moving all of his shit to Peter and his new apartment (Wade had straight up fainted when Peter asked if they could move in together several months ago), so his apartment was more of a dirty mess than it normally was. Honestly, the only reason it was even semi-inhabitable at this point was because Peter refused to come over if Wade didn't clean at least a little bit.

The cleaning Wade could deal with, but the moving and packing his shit up (which was mostly weapons and ammo) was getting to be dangerous. In fact, it was rapidly turning into a routine for him to stub his toe or trip over a moving box and then spend the next twenty minute using every single cuss word he had ever learned in whatever language came to mind to let the moving boxes know what he thought about them.

"You know, this wouldn't happen so much if you didn't leave the packed boxes in the middle of the room," Peter supplied unhelpfully from where he was lounged on Wade's sofa, calmly sipping his coffee while he watched in amusement as Wade cradled the toes he had just stubbed and spat profanities at the offending cardboard moving box.

"That doesn't mean that everything has to keep attacking my toes," he whined. "I stubbed them every time I got up to take a piss last night, and do you know how many times that was? Five! Five fucking times! My toesies can't handle this kind of abuse, they are delicate and fragile little appendages."

Peter raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Your toes have survived a lot worse than a couple boxes. And I know how many times you went to pee, you woke me up every single time. How do you even manage to live with such a small bladder?"

Wade flopped down onto his back, injured toes forgotten. "Oh, now we're going to make fun of my kitten bladder?" Without waiting for an answer he continued speaking. "Speaking of kittens, the new apartment allows animals, right? Because we totally need to get some badass, fluffy cat and name it Hulk. Can you imagine having a dinner party and telling everyone that you're going to go bring out your pet Hulk?"

Peter laughed, crossing his legs underneath him. "I hate parties, so that would actually be a perfect way to get everyone to leave when we want them to."

Wade flipped over and inchwormed across the floor until he was right in front of where Peter was sitting. It wasn't necessarily the most dignified way of getting across the room, but whatever, he hadn't been concerned about dignity since the time he'd chased some motherfucker through Time Square while dressed in a hula skirt and coconut bra. Dignity just lost all meaning after that.

"Besides cats named Hulk, do know what I think is perfect?" he asked, raising up on his knees and batting his eyelashes dramatically up at Peter.

Peter snorted, but played along by pretending to think and then saying, "Tacos?"

That threw Wade for a minute. "Well, yes- but that's not where I was going with this."

"Well, if it's not Mexican food then I can possibly imagine what it is that you think is perfect." Peter smirked, knowing exactly where Wade was going with this.

God, this kid was a fucking angel.

"I think you're perfect," Wade grinned.

Peter staged a loud gasp and pressed the hand that wasn't holding his coffee cup to his heart. "Wade Wilson, you romantic prince!"

Wade grinned, leaning forward to capture Peter's lips with his own. Any other conversation was effectively cut off by a glorious session of morning smooches.

Yeah, Wade was a smooth motherfucker.

\--

For once in the saga of their bliss-filled love story it was Wade, not Peter, who had to leave for work, cutting their Spidey-Wadey cuddle time short. A call came in the late afternoon, the usually 'blah blah, someone-didn't-play-nice-and-fucked-me-over, blah blah' thing. Wade hadn't wanted to take the job, but Peter had practically made the decision for him by saying that he needed to edit some pictures for work anyway.

Where was the fucking justice in this world? It was fucking Saturday, why did people feel the need to hire him on Saturdays?

But alas, money and guns called, so with much reluctance and whining, Wade finally pulled on his Deadpool suit (and no, he hadn't been wearing anything at all before that. When at home he liked a sense of freedom and a steady, cleansing breeze for his nether regions), kissed Peter passionately goodbye (and promised for the hundredth time that this wasn't an assassination job, it was just the standard 'scare-the-bad-guys-so-they-piss-themselves-into-behaving-and-sharing-their-illegal-things-with-other-bad-guys' job), and skipped outside into the late afternoon to do his fucking stupid job.

Like seriously, what the fuck though. Why do bad guys insist on working the weekends? Do they have no respect for the fact that Saturday's and Sunday's are sacred Spidey-Wadey cuddle days? Obviously they didn't since it was pretty damn important for no one to find out that Wade and Peter were a going concern, but still. This was totally putting a metaphorical wedgie in his plans for the day.

Maybe it was the fact that he was just a smidgen pissed off that made him be a little more violent than necessary when stopping the black Camaro speeding across the bridge. It wasn't exactly strictly necessary for Wade to stand in the very middle of the road, making cars honk as they zoomed around him, but as soon as the posh black car zoomed into view, all the other drivers forgot how pissed they were at Wade. That could be because of what a handsome devil he was, but more likely it had something to do with the big-ass gun he pulled out and leveled at the Camaro.

Two shots at the tires was all it took for the car to skid to a halt and for three huge Neanderthal-like dudes in classic, black suit, bad guy get-up to leap out and point their guns at him.

"'Sup, fellas!" Wade said cheerily, lowering his gun. He saw the Neanderthals exchanging blank looks and the thought flashed through his mind that if a movie were ever made about his life it absolutely _had_ to have some kind of bridge-car-fight standoff; those were always badass.

Nobody was saying anything so Wade sighed and continued. "Here's the deal, amigos, somebody is kinda-sorta-a little bit miffed that you skipped into the sunset without splitting a certain amount of money that came from selling a certain illegal substance. Now, I don't really give a shit about the whole drugs bit, but I've got a lonely client in tears who's waiting for his money to come keep him company. So how about you cough it up quick so we can call a tow truck for you and then call it a day? No harm, no foul, no guts blown out across the bridge. What'd'ya say?"

"Get the fuck out of the way."

The voice didn't come from any of the Neanderthal guards, but from a giant man in crisp suit that climbed slowly out of the car and faced Wade with his arms folded over his chest.

"Oh damn, you definitely ate your vegetables when you were a kid," Wade whistled, looking the man up and down; he made his guards look like tiny, delicate ballerinas.

"I know who you are, Deadpool," the man said, ignoring Wade's comment. "This has nothing to do with you, I'm only going to say it once more- fucking move."

"Au contraire, my dear Colossal Titan, I got a job to do which involves not moving until you pass over the spondulix." From the corner of his eye Wade could see that the bridge was almost completely deserted now; the cops must have done something smart for once and roped it off.

The man shrugged. "Whatever."

The word seemed to be some kind of command to the Neanderthals. All three of them lifted guns in complete synchronization and opened fire.

"Fucking balls!"

Wade liked to think that his yelp was deep and manly, but in all reality he sounded more like a surprised goose as he rolled out of the way. One bullet grazed his shoulder and two more lodged themselves in his right thigh- painful, but luckily not debilitating.

He raised his own gun, firing and taking out one of the Neanderthals before the rest of them got wise and took cover behind the Camaro, which was now sporting some brand new, bullet-sized ventilation holes.

"I'm kinda busy today, ya turds, can't we hurry this up?" Wade shouted over the firing of the guns.

Unfortunately, the firing and yelling were enough of a distraction that he hadn't seen one of the remaining Neanderthals somehow sneak up on his flank. Luckily for him though, the fucker had terrible aim. Unluckily for him, however, the bad aim meant that he got shot right in the pelvis, _way_ too close to the family jewels.

And that kind of pissed him off. A lot.

"Oh, now you've done it, motherfuckers! That area is off-limits unless you wear glasses and are unbelievably adorable- which you fucking aren't!"

The Neanderthal didn’t get a chance to respond, courtesy of Wade’s bullet that made itself a nice new home in his forehead. Two down, two to go.

Okay, so in hindsight maybe the grenades weren't the best of ideas, but when a man's mini-me is in danger, drastic measures must be taken. Unfortunately, he probably should have paid better attention to his aim when he started chucking them at the Colossal Titan and the remaining Neanderthal because he came dangerously close to hitting a rather familiar looking red-clad man that was swinging on webs straight towards him.

Wade tossed the last grenade and stood up, waving excitedly. "Spid- _oopff_!"

His greeting was cut off by Peter swinging right into him, grabbing hold of him, and swinging them toward the end of the bridge.

Over the noise of the grenades exploding he could here the Colossal Titan screaming something to the Neanderthal, but Wade was too busy glomping onto Peter and screaming, "WE'RE GOING TO DIE, HOLY FUCK, THIS IS THE END, GOODBYE, CRUEL WORLD!"

"Shut _up_ , Wade!" Peter sounded pissed. That was never a good sign. "Did you even think to check what kind of illegal shit these guys were dealing in?" He didn't wait for an answer before shouting, "Firearms, Wade! I got worried after you left, did some digging and saw it wasn't drugs or anything, it was fucking firearms!"

So the grenades really _had_ been a bad idea.

Oops.

All of the grenades had exploded already, but some of them had landed around abandoned cars, including the Camaro, starting numerous fires. This probably wasn't going to end well, and it was probably that thought that encouraged Wade to do what he did next.

"Petey," Wade said, having to shout over the roar of the wind that rushed around them as the soared from building to building with Peter's graceful movements and Wade's less than graceful shrieks of alarm and his internal struggle not to throw up all over his boyfriend's back as he clung on for dear life. The fall obviously wouldn't kill him if he lost his death grip on Peter, but he would still rather not fall off more tall buildings than absolutely necessary.

"I've got a question for you," he shouted.

"Can it wait?" Peter called back, his voice tight with concentration and adrenaline.

"My brain says yes, but my heart says no!"

"How about listening to your brain for once?" Peter all but snapped as he narrowly avoided smashing them into a crane. "You're distracting me!"

"Will you marry me?"

The words were out before Wade could stop them.

"Seriously?!" Peter yelped, barely managing to shoot out a new web in the shock. " _This_ is the time you pick to propose, Wade?! Really?!"

"Of course not!" Wade shouted back over the rush of air as they swung down again. He really, _really_ hoped he didn't barf on his hopefully soon-to-be finance, but stomach was basically doing its own version of twerking at this point.

"I had a whole evening planned for us tonight," Wade tried to explain, despite his nausea. "I had a scavenger hunt all set up for you where you'd find condoms, and then lube, and then a mixtape of baby making music, and then a massive bouquet of- HOLY FUCKING TACOS, WATCH OUT FOR THE BUILDING!"

"I've got it Wade!"

"-bouquet of roses," he continued like the hadn't just screamed in Peter's ear. "And then at the end you'd find me on the roof of our new apartment in a tux with the whole cliche, home cooked candle lit dinner shit, standing next to the table holding a- SPIDEY, WATCH OUT FOR THE LAMP POST!"

"I KNOW WHAT I'M FUCKING DOING, WADE!"

Wade gave up on trying to talk without his piss-inducing fear of swinging through New York making his voice a high pitch speaking shriek. "I WAS GOING TO GET DOWN ON MY GODDAMN, FUCKING KNEE AND BEG YOU TO MARRY ME, BUT THEN WHEN YOU SWUNG IN HERE TO SAVE THE DAY LIKE A FUCKING BADASS, SO MY BRAIN WENT TO MUSH, AND THE PLAN WENT OUT THE WINDOW. SO ARE YOU GONNA ANSWER ME OR NOT?!"

Wade knew his voice was had basically turned into the kind of high pitched scream that's only heard at Justin Bieber concerts, but he really couldn't help it. Flying through the air with the greatest of ease was not his preferred method of travel.

Blessedly, Peter seemed to realize that Wade was about to barf down his back and landed them on the roof of a tall building. It took Wade a few minutes to unwrap his barnacle-like grip from Peter's shoulders and waist, with Peter waiting patiently until Wade was standing nervously in front of him, for once unsure what to say.

Luckily he didn't have to worry about being silent for very long because Peter pulled his mask off, his Bambi eyes bright and sparkling against his flushed cheeks as he gently tugged off Wade's mask.

Wade stood perfectly still as Peter took a deliberate step forward and wrapped his arms around Wade's neck. "I would be honored to marry you, Wade Wilson. And even though it probably wasn't the most convenient for time for a proposal, it was absolutely perfect."

Wade stood still for a moment, letting the words sink in. "You really mean it? You'll marry me?" he asked in a whisper.

Peter laughed, his perfect, beautiful face practically glowing with happiness. "Yes, I _definitely_ mean that I’ll marry you."

Wade let out a whoop that could probably be heard all the way to Canada, and wrapped his arms around Peter's waist, picking him up and swinging him around. Peter laughed with him, his grip still tight around Wade's neck as he wrapped his legs around his waist.

When Wade finally stopped spinning they stood there, Peter still held tightly but gently in Wade's arms as they smiled at each other like the couple love-sick buffoons that they were.

That's when the bridge exploded.

They turned and looked at it, open-mouth, frozen with Peter still gripped tightly in Wade's arms, as the entire bridge was engulfed in flames. The ‘ _boom’_ of the explosion had been almost deafening, but, even through the ringing in his ears, Wade could hear the screaming of sirens as fire trucks started racing toward the scene.

"Well, no one will ever accuse me of not proposing with a bang."

Peter turned to gape at Wade, looking very much like he was contemplating whether or not to smack him for the ill-timed joke. Okay, so maybe it had been a bit too soon to be cracking jokes like that, but in his defense, it had been too good of an opportunity to miss.

To his surprise, Peter's face broke into a grin and he started laughing, tucking his head into the crook of Wade's neck. "That was absolutely horrible, I shouldn't be laughing at all," Peter gasped through his giggles. "But you really are the king of bad jokes."

Wade grinned, loving the sound of his baby boy's laughter. "I love you to the moon and back, Peter Parker," Wade whispered.

Peter pulled back to look at Wade, amusement still in his eyes, but when he smiled back it was almost shyly. It was sheer willpower alone that kept Wade from squealing at the complete adorableness of it. "I love you too, Wade Wilson. More than absolutely anything."

Wade was not ashamed to say that the conversation ended like a cliché superhero movie, where the love interests made out of the top of the building with the sun setting behind them.

However, the rest of the evening was much less romantic as it mostly consisted of Wade crouched over the toilet, barfing his guts out after Peter swung them home. Peter hovered around him most of the time, placing cool washcloths on his neck and rubbing his back soothingly. But, on top of puking his guts out, Wade had to suffer through Peter reopening all of his wounds to get the bullets out, all the while lecturing him about how being immortal didn't mean that he shouldn't start being more careful. So much for post-proposal sex.

But that didn't matter. What mattered was that, once Wade managed to crawl into bed, he got to curl up around his Spidey fiancé and twine their fingers together, feeling the press of the simple, white gold ring he had managed to slip onto Peter's finger when they got home before making his mad dash to the bathroom.

Peter snuggled into Wade’s chest, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to his lips and whispering, "Goodnight, future husband."

Wade didn't think he was ever going to be able to wipe the dopey grin off his face as he wrapped his arms protectively around Peter and hugged him impossibly tighter.

"Goodnight, baby boy."


End file.
